


Would You Like Porn With That?

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Kinks, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-22
Updated: 2007-09-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam wants more of Dean's attention than he's getting...because the Impala seems to be getting it all!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is my version of "car porn." You've been warned, people! This can be seen as a "companion piece" to "Don't Stop Believing," but both stand alone.

Would You Like Porn With That?

 

Dean spent three hours at the car wash. Three hours. Too damn long, thought Sam. Too long for any reasonable person to spend cleaning their car. But nobody ever described Dean Winchester as “reasonable,” now did they?

 

Sam had a plan. It would either work out well for him, or work out really, really well for him. Either way, he’d teach Dean a lesson.

 

When Dean arrived back at the motel, Sam was ready. “So,” Sam started, voice already tense and a few notes higher than usual, “did you get your pretty little car clean enough?”

 

Dean, incredulous, just nodded, but held Sam’s gaze. Something was up.

 

“Good,” Sam continued, walking in slow circles around Dean, “Because I think that bitch was getting a little, um, ripe, don’t you think? All the miles, all the sweat, all the, well, Dean, let’s face it, you’d be humping her instead of me at least every other night if you could, right? If having sex with a car was somehow not more unnatural than having sex with your own brother.”

 

Dean, eyes wide now, whispered, “Christo.”

 

Sam laughed. “No, Dean, I’m not possessed. Just possessive. And a little pissed. You spent three hours with that damn car this afternoon, and I guess I want my share, now.” 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean from behind, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, swaying slightly. “Don’t you think it’s time we had some time together?”

 

Dean closed his eyes, leaning back into Sam, reaching up for a fistful of his brother’s hair, moaning ever so softly, “Yes.”

 

Sam tightened his grip on Dean, and pulled him backwards toward the door, and out to the parking lot. And in to the Impala. Sam settled Dean in the passenger’s side, and hopped behind the wheel himself. Dean looked confused, even bewildered, but before saying anything, he saw the gleam in his brother’s eyes, and thought better of it. It seemed Sam was promising something good. Or so he hoped. 

 

Upon starting the engine, Sam took Dean’s hand and didn’t let go for miles. They rode in companionable silence, Dean not taking his eyes off of Sam, his arousal beginning without consulting him. Sammy and secretiveness? Either a really good thing or a really bad thing, he’d learned from experience. He was counting on the former. 

 

After an hour of driving, Sam pulled over into an open field, careful to park the car on level ground. He took Dean by the hand and led him to the edge of a nearby lake. “Sit down with me?” Sam asked, and Dean complied. They watched the sun set over the water, smiling and kissing lazily, touching gently and easily, until darkness fell.

 

Dean began making pleading noises as the kisses continued, and Sam smiled widely with satisfaction. Again taking his brother by the hand, Sam lead him back to the car, now bathed in moonlight, and hidden from view by any passing cars.

 

Sam pushed Dean against the car, kicking Dean’s legs apart and settling between them. He took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him with fervor, pushing his tongue into his brother’s mouth with insistence. Dean started making those noises again, and reached to push Sam’s shirt up, trying to touch skin. Sam stopped him, and continued kissing, nipping at Dean’s lips with his teeth, eliciting several high-pitched whines before Dean caught himself. 

 

“Sammy, please,” Dean murmured between assaults on his mouth, “Are you trying to kill a guy here? Let’s get on with it.”

 

Sam pulled back and smiled, “All you had to do was ask.” Sam opened the back door to the Impala, and motioned his brother inside. Dean protested about there not being enough room, but Sam insisted, pushing Dean down on the leather seat and climbing on top of him. Sam began anew his insistent kisses, now rubbing his body against Dean, grinding and shoving his hips into his brother’s crotch. Listening for the noises, the moans Dean made, and swallowing them whole. 

 

Sam made quick work of getting Dean’s shirts off, kissing his way down Dean’s chest and belly to the edge of his jeans. Dean reached to undress Sam, but Sam stopped him, “No, Dean, not this time, baby. I just want to see you in the moonlight.” Sam could swear he could see his brother’s pupils grow larger. Sam licked and bit at his brother’s torso, alternately gentle and rough. Sam was such an oral person, and Dean loved it. Loving it right now meant Dean was making embarrassing noises again, this time completely unaware of it. Sam hummed as he encircled one of Dean’s nipples with his lips, and heard what he thought was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard coming from his brother’s mouth. His brother’s mouth, that sinful, pouty, sexy, filthy mouth. With that thought, Sam turned his attention back to Dean’s mouth, kissing, licking, biting, relishing the heat there, the softness of Dean’s lips against his own and the roughness of Dean’s stubble against his skin. All the beautiful paradoxes of Dean. Sam stopped and lifted himself off of his brother for a moment, admiring the beauty beneath him. Dean’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, panting breaths escaping audibly from his mouth, a look of want on his face, a look of need. 

 

Sam kissed down Dean’s heaving chest, dipped his tongue into Dean’s belly button, and pulled at the denim of Dean’s jeans with his teeth, getting the first button undone. Impatient, Sam unfastened the other four buttons with this fingers, slowly, making sure to rub against his brother’s obvious arousal as each button popped free. Snaking off Dean’s jeans and boxers in the tight confines of the backseat of the Impala was quite a feat, but Sam managed it. Being that Dean’s eyes were closed during the undressing, he made a mental note to ask Sam later about any previous experience he might have had as either a porn star or a contortionist. 

 

Dean reached between the two of them, trying again to undress Sam, but Sam stopped him by roughly rubbing his own denim-clad crotch against Dean’s. Those noises again. 

 

Sam took mercy on him, and took Dean’s cock in his large hand, fisting it slowly, holding himself above his brother with his other arm, watching the pleasure creep over Dean’s face. He wanted to make this last. And last. He’d stay here all night with his brother’s hard cock in his hand, if he could. But he knew better. All good things must come to an end. Or, in this case, all good things must come. 

 

He kept Dean on the edge for as long as he thought he could without either making him come or driving him crazy. He unzipped his own jeans, released his own cock from its confinement, and, parting Dean’s legs, began pushing gently against Dean’s hole. Wet with precome, his cock slid against Dean with ease, the head pushing against his brother’s opening with practiced fashion. 

 

Sam stopped his ministrations, and gently pressed against Dean’s face, turning his brother’s head to the side. “Spit,” he said. Dean complied, spitting into Sam’s hand, hopeful that something was going to get wetter and hotter right away. Instead, Sam flattened his hand and rubbed Dean’s spit into the carpet of the floorboard of the Impala. Before Dean could protest, Sam again commanded, “Spit.” Dean, hopeful of a better outcome this time, again did as he was told. Sam wiped the spit in his hand into the other side of the floorboard. When Dean drew in a breath to complain, Sam simply covered his mouth with rough kisses, biting again at his lips. 

 

Sam continued his oral assault, and reached between their two bodies to gather his brother’s precome on his fingers. Adding some of his own moisture, he used the mixture to push two fingers into his brother, sliding in and out and opening him. When he felt Dean was ready, Sam pushed his cock into his brother’s opening, this time letting out his own embarrassing moans. 

 

In the small space of the backseat, Sam was able to leverage himself to push hard into Dean, harder than he thought wise, but he wasn’t really thinking, and Dean’s head was thrown back in what could only be pleasure. Dean’s face the picture of bliss. Sam always, always loved the way his brother looked when he was fucking him. So tense, yet so trusting, so open and so restrained, so full of lust and want and desire for Sam. Only for Sam. 

 

Wanton and wanting, Sam continued fucking Dean with an increasing tempo. Watching Dean’s face for any tell of impending orgasm, Sam covered Dean’s mouth with his hands. Something inside him wanted Dean silent and even more submissive than usual. Dean wasn’t complaining, and Sam found his fingers and the flat of his hand being licked and sucked as Dean complied with the gesture requesting he make no noise. Sam could feel Dean’s hardness between them, and the angle of Sam’s thrusting made it easy to create friction against his brother’s cock. With nimble movements, Sam managed to hit Dean’s prostate from the inside, and rub Dean’s cock from the outside with his own belly. He felt the hot wetness on his skin and he felt Dean’s hole spasm around him at the same time Dean bit down hard on Sam’s finger over his mouth. 

 

Sam was suddenly sure he was harder than he’d ever been, straining for release, fucking into Dean with unbridled force, knowing his brother would take anything from him, do anything for him. Sam allowed himself this indulgence, Dean’s teeth still digging into his fingers, still obediently silent, looking up at Sam with such trust. Sam thrust one last time, hard enough to shove Dean’s head into the door handle, knowing it would leave a bruise. Somehow this made his orgasm more intense. 

 

Collapsing onto Dean, retrieving his brain from wherever brains go during mind-blowing sex, Sam removed his aching fingers from his brother’s mouth at the same time he pulled his cock out of his brother’s ass. Dean hissed, the first sound he’d made since they got into the Impala. Sam lay gently against his brother, rubbing the back of Dean’s head where it had hit the door handle, soothing the ache. 

 

After both men regained what was left of their senses, Sam made a show of scooping up Dean’s come from both their stomachs, and finger-painting it on the leather of the seats of the Impala. On the back of the driver’s side seat, he wrote the word “Mine” with the sticky fluid. He moved up slowly and wrote on the back of the passenger’s side seat the letters “S” and “D.” 

 

Sam helped a still-pliable Dean out of the back seat, zipped up his own jeans, and motioned for Dean to get in the passenger’s side of the car. Dean reached for his clothes. Sam swatted his hands away. “No, Dean, I want your bare ass on that seat, leaking my come out of your hole onto the leather. I want even this damn car to know you are mine.”

 

Dean smiled the smile of the willing, and did as he was told. When Sam reached to turn the key in the ignition, Dean, still maintaining his silence, touched Sam’s wrist, effectively getting his attention. Not once breaking eye contact, Dean sat up a bit, pulled his ass cheeks apart slightly and sat down, grinding his ass into the seat. The leather would be wet and sticky by the time they got home. 

 

Sam was already hard again. It looked like the evening worked out really, really well for the both of them.

 

Dean didn’t clean his car for months.

 

 

BJH

July 29, 2007


End file.
